


sanctuary

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Lazy Mornings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes, home is a person.(Self-indulgent sickeningly sweet morning fluff.)
Relationships: Stan Pines/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 119





	sanctuary

There's something to be said for finding comfort in the body of another, in their familiar touch, their warmth, their scent. It doesn't necessarily have to mean sex, though between Stan and you, it often did. There's nothing wrong with that, of course, but this was not one of those times.

It had been a difficult week for the both of you. Perhaps the world had decided to speed up while the two of you lay sleeping; it whirled you around some unknown axis, leaving you stagnant, slow, and exhausted. It was like the days were moving faster and faster and the worst part about it was that that whip-crack pace seemed to drag them out for ever. There was no time for rest, but those busiest afternoons never seemed to end. You wanted for nothing more than to spend some actual time with the man you loved, and yet no opportunities arose.

The weekend, then, was like the first sweet storm after drought.

Saturday morning dawned pale blue and yellow. It was cold—the first truly cold morning of the season. Stan, luckily, was like a bonfire personified (in more ways than one), and while you didn't _need_ an excuse to cuddle up to him, it was nice to have one anyway. It was probably somewhere around 7 AM—your body was all too accustomed to waking up early for work, but you didn't mind it this time. At least now you could luxuriate in the comfortable pressure of Stan's big arms holding you close while actually conscious enough to appreciate it.

The man in question was still snoring. The sound of it didn't grate on your nerves anymore, but rather had washed out into a familiar background noise, one that you almost couldn't sleep _without_ at this point. He smelled like… himself. There was no other way to describe it. He had showered the car grease and sweat and whatever else accumulated scents that usually clung to his clothes and skin off last night, and so all that was left now was the smell of _him_ , completely indescribable but pleasingly intimate. You found yourself smiling softly, unconsciously, just happy to finally have a calm moment to yourself.

You pushed yourself up a little then, pressing kisses to his chest, his trapezius, his deltoids. The rumble of his snores began to taper off, finally silencing as his eyes fluttered open—and then shut, when your mouth met his.

"Hi, doll," he said, grinning, when you finally came up for air. His voice was even more gravelly this early in the morning, roughened by sleep. He twisted a few locks of your hair between his big fingers before tucking them behind your ear, looking at you with a soft, open face. It was a rare thing to see Stan without his guard up; your heart swelled, and skipped a beat. 

"I'm gonna make breakfast," you said, ignoring the ache in your chest. "Any requests?"

"Anything's fine by me," he replied. You kissed him again, gently, before slipping out of bed and leaving him to do whatever he needed to.

You were just about finished when Stan finally emerged from the bedroom (not that he took overly long—eggs and bacon arranged in a smiley face wasn't exactly a complex dish). He had that big, dumb grin you loved on, leaning up against the wall.

"Whatcha smilin' at, Stan?" you asked, head turned to look at him.

"Aw, nothin'," he deflected. "Just admirin' the view, that's all." You blushed, though not really all that embarrassed. Stan was fully dressed at this point, not in the classic Mr. Mystery suit, but in a nice dark tee, stretching taut across the muscles of his shoulders and back. His customary chain was fully on display, the gleaming gold circle catching the light. You, on the other hand, were wearing a big t-shirt of his, plain white and reminiscent of his teenage days… _just_ a big t-shirt of his, having forgone pants. The view he was admiring, then, was the bare curve of your legs, a flash of your panties each time you had to reach up to grab an ingredient or what have you.

You smiled despite yourself, setting his plate down at the table beside a still-steaming cup of coffee—black, with three sugars, how he liked it. He took a sip, lips curving up into a shocked smile when he tasted it. 

"You _remembered_ ," he said, smile falling, looking like he had been bowled over by the knowledge. Which was strange, because you'd memorized how he took it _days_ into your cohabitation.

"Don't I always?" you asked earnestly, before rising up on your tippy-toes, feet bare, to kiss his cheek. "Y'know. Strong and sweet, just like _you._ "

Stan barked out a laugh. It was cheesy, but you couldn't help it sometimes. It was like you loved him far too much for your body to contain, so it leaked out in dumb jokes and sickeningly saccharine compliments. Before you could pull away, though, Stan's big hand settled warm and heavy against the back of your neck, tipping your face up to kiss you for real. There was some urgency in it, which took you by surprise, though it wasn't unwelcome. His hand curled into the hair at the base of your neck, your arms wrapped around his body to hold him flush to you. Again, there was his scent; it filled your senses, dizzying, comforting. 

His lips on yours were getting more desperate, his body a solid wall of heat against you. _What was with him this morning?_

"Marry me," Stan said, finally, breathing it into your mouth like he couldn't bear to separate himself from you for as long as it would take to ask. _Oh._ His voice was low and rough and _intimate._ "I know we ain't exactly talked about it much and you don't gotta answer me now but —"

"Yes _,_ " you whispered, so fast it took all the air out of your lungs with it. "Oh, _Stan,_ of course I'd say yes!" 

He grinned, wide enough to make his cheeks ache, the very same smile splitting your own face. You kissed him, softly, at first, and then like you were drowning in him. You could taste his giddy laughter, bright and sweet and warm and _happy_.

You were certain he could taste yours, too.


End file.
